


funeral lights

by narcissae



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M, Post canon, the foxes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 07:10:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11143410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissae/pseuds/narcissae
Summary: kevin likes to think the duty of organizing riko’s funeral has fallen to him by virtue of being the one who knew him best, but in his heart of hearts, he knows better, knows it’s only because tetsuji doesn’t care enough to do it himself, and that adds to the quiet fury simmering the funeral pyre his heart has been since the passing of kayleigh day was announced on bbc1.a story about kevin, riko, and death, and not forgiving anyone anything.





	funeral lights

he likes to think the duty of organizing riko’s funeral has fallen to him by virtue of being the one who knew him best, but in his heart of hearts, he knows better, knows it’s only because tetsuji doesn’t care enough to do it himself, and that adds to the quiet fury simmering the funeral pywre his heart has been since the passing of kayleigh day was announced on BBC1.

wymack had said “you don’t need to do it son” like there was anyone else to do it. like he would just hand a legal pad and a pen to someone else, and tell them “deal with this”. who would he delegate this to? engle? riko might come back to life and try to kill him again just for that. fucking richards? kevin didn’t trust fucking richards to clean up the court after practice. thea? would she do it for him – he already knows the answer to that. jean? and what – get his other hand broken too for even daring to suggest that the other man harbors any sort of feeling for riko that might suggest the funeral will be more than a line of people pissing on the body?

he and riko had joked once that they would die together, or not at all. riko had said “maybe i’ll ask in my will for you to be entombed with me” and kevin had found it morbid and reassuring at once. studying history together made for all kinds of morbid statements like this. but kevin had known even then, that he and riko couldn’t and wouldn’t share a grave. riko’s dream was to be buried in the moriyama family crypt. kevin wanted to be laid next to his mother in ireland. they couldn’t reach a compromise.

in the aftermath of riko’s death, he remembers this conversation more than the sickening crunch of bone under riko’s polished shoes.

he sits in their room. his legs had given out on him at the sight of it, and he’d collapsed on riko’s bed, and pulled his hoody close to his chest and breathed him in, deodorant, green tea, and blood, and sweat and antiseptic. he burried his face in the black folds and tried to remember which alumni riko had been close to, and who had been kind to them, who he can stand sharing the podium with to read an eulogy. something ugly and vindictive rears its head, and for a moment he thinks he doesn’t want to share this with anyone. he wants to bury riko himself, dig the fucking hole in the frozen ground, and throw his hateful face in there, and cover it up with dirt.

the cotton is soaked through with his snot and tears when he raises his face. across the room, his own desk stares at him, with all the books he’d left behind, with his bed, perfectly made. he imagines riko sitting where kevin is sitting right now, waiting for the door to open, waiting for him to come back.

he doesn’t make it to the bathroom fast enough, retching out more vodka than solids, and beats his hand on the tile until it’s bruised and the pain throbbing through his wrist threatens to send him into another panic attack. he should have never left. he should have never left him, and then none of this would have happened.

“hey.”

he turns around so fast he almost gives himself whiplash, some hysterical part of him expecting to see riko, dressed down, and getting ready for bed, softened with exhaustion, smoothed out with Johnson’s stolen sleeping meds, but it’s just engle in running shorts and a threadbare jersey from his freshman year.

kevin drags a hand over his face, and bares his teeth, “fuck you want?”

engle raises his hands defensively.

“chill man. saw the light was on. you can’t sleep here, dude. it’s fucked up. come on.”

kevin slaps his hand away when he reaches to help, and gets himself up. he splashes cold water on his face. he has never wanted to be alone so viscerally before in his life. he has never needed another raven to be there with him as much. he wants to punch engle, or put his arms around him.

“fuck you,” he says without feeling. engle lets out a dry huff.

“you can’t sleep here,” he repeats.

“it’s my room.” he’s not sure why he feels so defensive. he wasn’t planning on sleeping there at all. he was going to get himself back to the east tower guest quarters. he was no longer at home in the nest. he’d just meant to grab some stuff. he’d just meant to take something back – his dignity, his heart, his unscarred hand from before.

“’s not though, is it?”

“fuck you,” he says. he’d always taken a lot of pleasure in flattening engle on the court at every scrimmage for being a major asshole and minor piece of shit. his dislike clearly hadn’t translated well enough. it might have passed for raven camaraderie.

“riko is dead,” engle says. his voice comes out hard as steel.

“i know that.” kevin says.

“riko is dead and it’s your fault.”

kevin opens his mouth to protest, but engle stops him.

“no. shut up. hear me the fuck out, because someone’s going to say this to you, and it might as well be me and if you wanna punch my teeth out later, that’s fine. riko is dead, and it’s your fault, and that’s what a whole lot of people are going to think, and there’s nothing you can do about it. he blew his brains out because you beat him. so it’s your fault. so you left, so maybe he broke your hand – and i don’t know shit about fuck, about any of that, so maybe you’re telling the truth, and maybe y’aint, but that’s not the point. the point is, that’s what people will say – you broke riko’s goddamn heart, if he ever had one, you betrayed this team and everything we stand for, and you fucked up, and riko shot himself. and that’s bullshit. he would have done it anyhow, and any of us who were here these last couple years know that good and well. he may as well have ended it when you left. fuck that. riko is dead, and he’s never coming back, but you’re here, you’re his number two, and you’re still a goddamn raven no matter what you try to act and say, and so if there’s anything you need – you ask for it. even though you’re a traitorous hypocritical piece of shit, and if you were on fire i wouldn’t spit on you to put it out.”

kevin isn’t sure if that’s support of some kind. he can’t tell if this is kindness. but it breaks him anyhow. because riko is dead. riko had been dying since the first time he closed a fist around an exy stick.  
and he was never going to be put in the moriyama family tomb, with or without kevin.

“there’s a bunch of us on the court,” engle says. “informal vigil before the memorial. lydia flew in from boston and rallied the troops.”

“oh,” kevin managed. “that’s nice of her.”

“she didn’t want to bother you in your time of mourning,” he scoffs. “but i think you’re a piece of shit, so i don’t care.”

“when you make court, i’m going to make your life hell for being such a dickhead,” kevin said without heat, following him down the hall. engle misses a beat, and then keeps walking, but his shoulders are straighter.

the lights aren’t on. the court is drowning in black. except for the lanterns. so many japanese lanterns, floating above the stands. someone is playing music out of a portable speaker. ravens are sitting on the ground in the middle of the court.

“brought the prodigal son and all,” engle says. someone boos.

“shut up, richards,” kevin snarls, out of sheer force of habit, and sits on the ground heavily, next to johnson. she flips her ponytail over one shoulder, and gives him a considering look, like she can’t decide if he’s worth her time anymore, where any time before, she would have jumped at any opportunity to suck his dick – literally or metaphorically.

“so is anyone going to hook her majesty up with booze or what?” she demands. “pass a bottle this way, dickheads.”

lydia hands them a vodka bottle in an airport bag.  
“do y’all know what a bitch it was to explain to tsa why I need three bags of those, when no one recognizes my face from tv?”

“it was very nice to get here on such short notice, lydia,” kevin offers half-heartedly. he supposed he owed some kind of nicety to the girl who’d taken his virginity and graciously pretended like he’d made her come.

she shrugs. “i play a third rate team. my schedule is lax. yeah, i’m making all the digs here so you hyenas have nothing lef to rip into.”

“do you know what other alumni are coming?” kevin asks.

lydia gives another shrug. “all of them that are alive and well, aren’t they?”

that makes sense, makes kevin’s job easier.

“the master saddled you with the funeral, didn’t he. i can help.”

lydia had organized jessica martin’s funeral when she’d slit her wrists in a hotel room after an away game in their fourth year.

he takes a swig from the bottle and closes his eyes. he wants to pretend this is just another night after a game. they’re talking about strategy, and talking pure shit about the other team. they are laughing. someone is already making out with someone else. riko’s hand finds his in the dark. later, his lips will find kevin’s mouth when they stumble into their room, and they won’t talk about it in the morning. he imagines it so hard, when he opens his eyes next, it’s just him. people had slowly drifted out, to get some shut eye, and it’s just him, in the middle of the raven’s court,and his bottle is almost empty. he stands up, stumbling. whoever had the speakers has forgotten them, and something slow and instrumental drifts around, as the lanterns lose heat and gently float down.

it’s raining stars on the court of evermore. riko’s hand in his, they are dancing slowly, opening the ceremony for the spirit day award, ever good friends for th cmaeras – so endearingly close. the cleaning crew needs someone to unlock the stadium so they can clean up, and they wait, riko’s head on his shoulder, spinning endlessly, riko’s fingers loosely entwined with his while an obnoxious song about being in love and young and free plays.

he twirls riko and lets his hand sleep out, and riko stands there. bathed in the dim lights, and he is dead, and all that’s left of him is kevin’s memory of his hollow eyes and bitter smileand kevin wants desperately to reach out, and grab this beautiful phantom and pull him to his chest, he wants, more than anything, to step up and say don’t go, not yet, stay here. he wants to say whatever the master has to say can wait until tomorrow.

he has imagined it a hundred million times, knowing what he knows now. he will grab riko’s hand and save his own.

riko stands across the court from him, farther than he was when kevin last blinked, and makes a handsome corpse.

“don’t go,” kevin says. “you know what’s going to happen if you do. and i can’t save you then.”

riko’s hollow dark eyes are dripping slowly down his paper pale face, but his smile is fixed the way it always is on tv, and in the papers.

“the erc think you’re holding kevin back,” he says, ever the obedient doll willing to parrot all the words the master beats into his mouth, like he doesn’t realize riko will repeat anything he is told on the off chance he might not get slapped if he does it just right.

kevin winces.

“please don’t go,” he says, and reaches out for him again. “aren’t we having fun here? just us on this court.”

riko reaches up as well, mirroring kevin’s position.

“this already happened, kevin.” he admonishes gently. “how many times have you had this dream?”

“i want you to say it again,” kevin says quietly. “i want to hear you say it again, before you go away, and break everything.”

“i love you, kevin.” riko is fading away slowly, melting into the darkened corners of the court. “i’ll talk to you later.”

kevin squeezes his eyes shut. those were the last words riko had said to him when they were still friends.

he wakes up by the force of his own desperate sobs, and clutches the empty bottle tighter to his chest.


End file.
